Why Would you Cheat Death for Sherlock Holmes?
by flibeauti232
Summary: Arisia has a conversation with Moriarty about his return. And about Sherlock Holmes.


**Hello peoples, so I've been thinking about this story for weeks now and I desperately wanted to publish it soon. It does tie in to my story The Gypsy and Arisia is the character from that story so feel free to check it out if you want (pretty please). I was going to make this apart of the second series of The Gypsy, but I didn't want to wait that long and risk losing this idea. So it's a pretty short story But it's to the point. Enjoy!**

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The French alleys were no place to be after dark. Especially for a young woman. However; for this particular woman anyone smart wouldn't dare come near her with any hostile intent. A local thug from three blocks before learned that the hard way. So far the night was quiet. Too quiet. That wasn't a good sign. She looked around, fully aware that she was being watched. Perhaps they were making sure she wasn't being followed. She rounded the corner nearly reaching her destination, until a foul smell suddenly assaulted her nose.

_Dead body_.

She reached the end of the building right next to the garbage where the body laid in the pile. It was still decomposing (obvious from the flies and maggots). The blood was still fresh so it couldn't have been no more than a few hours old. Obviously male, despite the lack of head and genitalia. No clothing. Tattoo on the left arm. Gang Activity? Large scar on the right knee, knee replacement on the left. Military. Cuts and scrapes on the knuckles. Must have put up a fight. Then there was something that stood out on the chest. A series of cuts that looked like they spelled something. She looked closer, capable of looking past the maggots, and read what it said:

_FAILURE. JM_

She stood back up biting her lip.

"Sorry Sebastian," she said despite not having a hint of remorse.

Suddenly five men stepped out and surrounded her. She took a deep breath, rolling her eyes.

"Don't worry boys, he's expecting me," she stated slightly annoyed.

The taller man looked to the one standing by the door and nodded. He then opened the door and escorted her inside. She looked back at Moran's decapitated, mutilated body and shook her head.

_"__So dramatic." _She said to herself.

They led her down the hall and into a rather refurbished room with an expensive chair and a couch. The only light source came from the toasty looking fire place.

She walked into the room, after giving her coat to one of the men, and sat on the couch. She waited patiently for her 'host' to arrive until she heard the sound of the door opening. Her body stiffened, but she showed no other signs of fear or nervousness. He walked up beside her, but she didn't turn around.

"You could have just called," she stated.

"I was going to, but then I thought it be more satisfying seeing your pretty face," a familiar Irish brogue replied.

She finally turned her head and faced sinister, dark eyes.

"James Alexander Moriarty," she greeted in cold regard.

"Integra Arisia Yadeni Heron," he responded in the same regard.

"And since when have you ever heard me use my full name," she replied irritatingly.

"I could say same about you," he replied in a sing-song voice.

She took another deep breath resisting the urge to punch the man in the face.

"Jim," she regarded again.

"Arisia," he regarded annunciating each vowel in her name.

Moriarty then walked over to chair across from her and sat in it. The two sat in silence for quite examining one another, but since they were both good at hiding anything suspicious about themselves there wasn't much to deduce.

"You look good for someone who just shot a bullet through his brain," she said breaking the silence.

"Beauty never really fades, my dear, it just becomes buried with time and circumstance," he responded charmingly.

"Poetic," Arisia spat sarcastically.

"Speaking of bullets through the brain," Moriarty shifted forward acknowledging Arisia before asking, "How do you think I did it?"

Arisia sat back in her chair, asking herself that question for days now. Until she final thought of the answer.

"Point blank range," she began.

"Gun was real and the bullets were real. But there were only three remaining. First four were removed for obvious reasons. You put the gun in your mouth and pulled the trigger with no intention of actually shooting yourself. You had your sniper for that. You needed to keep Sherlock in place and make sure he didn't see the bullet from the sniper. Thus the handshake. With Sherlock momentarily distracted, the sniper aimed for the back of the head. The bullet was quite small so it couldn't have done too much damage, but just enough to make your death look real. The bullet lodged in the medulla oblongata almost immediately cutting off the body's nerves, paralyzing you. The sound of the gunshot was pre-recorded, and you wore a blood pack in your jacket. After Sherlock made his jump, you were immediately moved. The body at the morgue was a fake (you kept it in storage for a while until you needed it). The bullet was surgically removed, barely saving you and after several months of physical therapy you were back on your feet plotting again for your next move."

Moriarty sat back in his chair and smirked.

"Brilliant strategy," he praised before closing his eyes and turning off his smile, "but wrong."

At this, Arisia frowned.

"What?" she asked confused.

"Well you're only half-wrong," he admitted, "but not quite right."

"Then How-

"Uh Uh Uh, a magician never reveals his secrets," he interrupted.

"Thought you didn't believe in magic," she stated.

"Makes for a good metaphor," he shrugged.

Not wanting to drag this conversation on, Arisia decided to get to the point.

"So you've finally made your presence known in London."

"Did you miss me?" he asked sweetly.

"No," was her flat answer.

"Aww, Really?" he replied mocking a hurt look. "After everything we've been through."

"You mean like me slipping arsenic in your tea, nearly strangling you to death in bed, or even trying to behead you," Arisia stated matter-of-factly, "Lovely time."

"Is that you talking or your sister?" he asked raising a brow.

"Well we both hate you and we both would love to see you choke on your own blood, so either way makes no difference," she replied in the same matter-of-fact tone.

Moriarty chuckled darkly and sat back in the chair, crossing his legs.

"Well enough about me, let's talk about you," he began to converse, "You've been quite busy lately helping Sherlock dismantle my crime network (well the part I didn't really care for). Even getting Sebastian in trouble. Poor dear, he probably won't be missed."

Suddenly Moriarty's eyes got hard.

"So what was it like working with Sherlock Holmes?" he asked.

"Don't worry, you boyfriend and I are just friends," she replied slyly, "Although I admit he is something special."

Moriarty smiled, but didn't change the hard look in his eye.

"Careful, I can be quite the possessive type," his tone was soft but still filled with warning.

"I'm sure," she said.

"Funny thing. You knew Sherlock was alive before I came into contact with him. You could have easily just found him and killed him. The world was still under the impression that he was dead and a fake. That was the whole purpose of the Reichenbach Fall. And yet you chose to let him live. You chose to let him take apart your network. You chose to let him return to his life with his name cleared. And for 8 months you chose to let him think that he defeated you."

"And your point?" Moriarty replied raising both eyebrows.

"Why?" Arisia asked simply.

"Why what, love?"

"Why would you cheat death for Sherlock Holmes?"

When Jim didn't respond or change his expression, she continued.

"You yourself said that life was meaningless, and staying alive was boring. Sherlock was your best distraction and yet you still wanted him dead. During the fall you had the perfect way out, perfect death and the final game. You obviously knew about Sherlock's little trick. You could have easily stopped it. You both could have died that day. Ending your boredom and defeating your enemy. Yet you both walked out of there alive. Well he walked, you were in a stretcher. But still, why decide to return now? I know you Jim, you never stay interested in the same toy. What's so different about him that you had to stay alive?"

"Maybe he's just more fun than you are," Moriarty responded simply.

"Why? Because he's willing to put up with your insanity?" she asked.

"But there's more to it, isn't there?"

"Tragic to hear about Magnussen," he changed the subject, "well for many people's cases I suppose it's not that tragic."

Realization dawned over Arisia.

"Of course, Sherlock killed Magnusson," she stated what she recently learned.

"Isn't it wonderful, my little Sherly's all grown up and playing with the big boys now," Moriarty replied his voice filled with excitement.

"That still doesn't explain why you would want to return. Sherlock was charged for murder and exiled on a death mission. He was never going to see John again, he would never be a detective again, and he was going to die alone and friendless. You coming back was his salvation, which is funny because you were the one who wanted him dead."

"What can I say? I'm just sooo changeable." He responded with glee.

"You obviously aren't planning on continuing on with your attempt, are you?" she asked.

"Of course not, _too boring_," he replied in a tone equivalent to a _'duh' _phrase.

"But why come back? You could've shown up any time before, and yet you chose to return after Sherlock committed murder. What was the purpose?"

At this, Moriarty gave a more sinister smile.

"It depends. Perhaps as a reward for his naughty behavior. Or perhaps I just want to see what kind of an impact my presence will have on him. After all, he's no longer on the side of the angels."

"He's still a good man," she argued.

Moriarty stood up and straightened his jacket.

"When I'm done with him, he won't be. In fact, he might even be a reflection of yours truly," his voice had a dead serious tone.

"He'll never be like you," she protested.

"What makes you so sure?" he asked not one bit curious.

"Because I'm capable of acknowledging a good soul when I see one," she replied simply.

Moriarty gave her a scornful look before walking past her and heading to the door.

"By the way, I'll be requiring your services."

"What makes you think you'll get them?"

"Because you've already given them to me, you just don't know it."

By the time he made it to the door, Arisia called out to him.

"You still didn't answer my question."

Moriarty turned and faced her, raising a brow.

"Why would you cheat death for Sherlock Holmes?"

There was a long silent pause until Moriarty finally answered:

"Because I never leave tasks unfinished. I will BURN the HEART out of him. I will leave nothing and no one left for him and watch him fall apart. When that happens, I'll be there to pick up the pieces and put him back together, however I want. He's mine to destroy and mine to assemble."

And with that he was gone.

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**So what did think. For all you Hellsing fans out their yes Arisia's first name is Integra. She hates it though and just prefers using Arisia.**

**Anyway please review. Reviews give me confidence.**


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